


Lay Our Ghosts to Rest

by fickleminder



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickleminder/pseuds/fickleminder
Summary: There’s a boy wandering the halls of the castle. No one seems to know who he is or where he comes from, but Shiro finds him familiar somehow. 
Too bad he’s the only one that can see him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ow I hurt myself.

“Remember Nuey, patience yields focus.”

The Gaie’s storm gray eyes flash with indignation, but Shiro can see some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she draws a deep breath and adjusts her stance. Her long snake-like tail remains poised in mid-air, ready to strike at any moment. The slight twitch of its barbed tip is the only warning the black paladin gets before she attacks, launching herself forward with a flurry of sharp jabs.

Shiro dodges and blocks them easily, eventually managing to grab a hold of her arms when she tries to rush him. A swift pivot aided by her momentum sends her flying across the training deck, and Nuey snarls in frustration as she crashes to the ground.

“Good work.” Shiro crosses the distance between them and offers a hand up, only for it to be swatted away.

“How was that any good?” She demands, standing up to her full height. Despite the fact that the blue-skinned humanoid alien has a good three inches on Shiro, he’s unfazed by the burning glare sent his way. “I didn’t even scratch you!”

“Maybe not, but your aim improved and you were lighter on your feet. Keep that up and next time your opponent won’t be able to see you coming.”

Nuey scoffs at his words, but returns to the center of the room and moves back into stance. “Another round! I’m not leaving until I land a hit.”

Shiro’s lips curl in a rare display of challenge. “Alright then, show me what you’ve got.”

 

* * *

 

_He dreams of purple and red, so much red._

_It’s hard to make sense of the colors flooding in from all directions, blurred and muddied like the memories the Galra had stolen from him. He’s surrounded, trapped, unable to even make a sound as waves of purple crash over him, sweeping him away into a crimson current that drags him under, pulls him beneath the surface until his lungs are filled with blood and he --_

\-- jerks upright with a gasp, eyes flying open and prosthetic flaring to life.

Shiro sees it then, a shadow in his peripheral. It vanishes when he whips his head towards it, the soft blue glow from his cybernetic arm illuminating only the insides of his empty room. He shakes his head to clear the fog of sleep clouding it, dismissing the figure as a remnant of his convoluted dream.

Minutes pass as Shiro catches his breath, his left hand absently tracing the Altean markings etched onto the new prosthetic Hunk and Pidge had built for him. The memories are pretty fuzzy, but he was told that the Galra had done something to his old one when he’d been captured during a mission gone south. It was infecting him, acting of its own accord, and there was a very real possibility that the Galra had managed to figure out a way to control him with it. According to the others, he had been in a state of delirium the entire time, and Lance and Nuey had to knock him out to prevent him from hurting his friends. Luckily no one got injured, but they’d kept him under until his arm was finally replaced, just to be safe.

It’s not easy going back to sleep after a nightmare, but Shiro tries his best anyway, knowing that Allura has prepared a vigorous training regimen for the next day. Lying back down and closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and wills himself to relax.

The spaces between his fingers ache with emptiness, for some reason.

 

* * *

 

“Mind melding?”

Shiro nods. “Honestly I can’t even remember the last time we did it, and I’m sure you’ve noticed that we haven’t had much success forming Voltron lately. I was hoping the exercise might give our sync rates a boost.”

The look on Allura’s face is painfully apologetic. “I’m sorry, Shiro. That’s a splendid idea, but the mind melding equipment have been malfunctioning as of late. Coran’s working on getting them fixed, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be done anytime soon.”

“Really? It feels like they’ve been broken for a while now.” Shiro frowns in confusion.

“The technology is old, even by Altean standards. It won’t be easy figuring out the issues, but I’ll be sure to let you know if we get anywhere.”

“I understand. Thank you, princess.”

Allura smiles back at him, though the gesture doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

* * *

 

_“Hey, you have a minute?”_

_“Of course, Keith. What’s up?”_

_The half-Galran paladin falls into step next to his leader, brushing their fingers together as they walk towards the hangers. “I wanted to ask a favor. Will you teach Nuey how to fight?”_

_Shiro’s face falls in sympathy. “She still doesn’t trust you, huh?”_

_“Unfortunately,” Keith sighs. “I can’t blame her though. The Galra destroyed her planet and murdered her family. She won’t go anywhere near me, unless you count the time she almost clawed my eyes out.”_

_They both grimace at the memory. It’s been two weeks since they’d taken Nuey in, the grief-stricken orphan so filled with hate and vengeance that she’d practically begged them to let her join their ranks. While the Castle of Lions had evacuated the surviving Gaie to a safe and habitable planet, she had no one left among them. Nuey’s integration into the team was rocky at best; her stubbornness and quick temper matched Keith’s easily, but her antagonism towards him blew Lance’s out of the water. She’d even attacked him the first time they met, refusing to accept that one of Voltron’s paladins was part Galra._

_“Nuey’s itching to go out there and fight alongside us, and I want her to be able to at least protect herself. Lance is teaching her how to use a gun, but she’ll need close combat training too.”_

_“I’ll see what I can do,” Shiro promises with a smile. “I still think you’re more suited for the role, but I guess it can’t be helped.”_

_“What can I say, I learnt from the best.” Keith smirks at him, earning an affectionate peck on the cheek._

 

* * *

 

There’s a boy in the castle.

Shiro first sees him on the way to the kitchen in the middle of the night, and does a double take at the sight of a dark-haired teenager in a red cropped jacket rounding a corner. Blinking in surprise, he stares at the retreating figure for at least a good five seconds before his brain finally kicks into gear and moves his feet to follow.

By the time he makes it to the end of the hallway, the boy is gone.

It’s possible that the lack of proper sleep is causing his mind to play tricks on him, but then all sorts of strange things start to happen over the next few days. Aside from catching more glimpses of the boy before he disappears again, Shiro would hear an extra set of footsteps walking beside him even when he’s alone, feel a force brushing against his arm during training, and generally get the sense that he’s being watched. Occurrences like these would normally put him on edge, but for some reason his internal alarm bells aren’t going off, as though the experiences are something he’s accustomed to.

Allura and Coran have firmly assured him that the castle isn’t haunted, and even if it is there’s no reason why the ghost would be human (at least Shiro assumes he is; he’s never seen the boy’s face, only the back of his head). No one seems to have noticed anything out of the ordinary and the boy doesn’t appear to have malicious intents, so Shiro thinks he can let the matter rest by ignoring it altogether.

Then the nightmares get worse.

 

* * *

 

_He’s fighting again, always fighting in his dreams, be it in the arena, the holding cells, or the battlefield._

_Plowing through a sea of purple figures, he cuts them down left and right. Golden eyes burn into his skin as sharp claws reach for him and sink into his flesh. There’s no end to them; take one down and five more spring up from its corpse in a spray of blood. His body is moving on autopilot, acting purely on sheer instinct as he struggles to break free, to reach the lights on the other side of the endless dreamscape._

_Red, green, blue, yellow -- They’re being smothered by purple, flickering in and out. He tears his way through to the closest one, red, he's almost there --_

Shiro’s eyes snap open and his prosthetic lights up in reflex, but overall it’s a relatively calm way of waking up from a nightmare, at least compared to screaming and thrashing around. It’s just as well, because tonight there is someone kneeling next to his bed.

This time, the boy doesn’t disappear when Shiro turns his head towards him. His face still can’t be seen properly, not with the dark bangs hiding his eyes from view, but something tells Shiro that he isn’t a threat. Deactivating his cybernetic arm, he remains still as the boy slowly reaches for him, both hands clad in fingerless gloves.

One cradles the side of his face gently, its thumb wiping away tears he didn’t realize were gathering at the corners, while the other holds his flesh hand and threads their fingers together, squeezing lightly. The boy feels too real to be a ghost or a figment of his imagination, feels so familiar that Shiro finds himself leaning into his touch.

_Who are you_ , he wants to ask, but then there are fingers carding through his hair, smoothing down the sleep-tussled locks and massaging his scalp. The comforting ministrations are so soothing that Shiro’s eyes slide shut without resistance as he drifts back to sleep almost immediately.

When he wakes up the next day, his room is empty.

 

* * *

 

“Have you guys seen a boy wandering around the castle recently?”

The room goes silent. Everyone seems to freeze in place, the only movement coming from a blob of green goo falling from Hunk’s spoon on the way to his open mouth. Eyes dart around as glances are exchanged, not quite confused, but more tinged with concern.

Pidge is the first to respond, the expression on her face schooling into practiced neutrality.

“What boy?” She asks.

Shiro’s description doesn’t ring any bells, but his friends assure him that they’ll keep a look out just in case. A teenager walking around with a mullet can’t be hard to miss, after all.

“I mean, it’s not the 1980s, so who even does that anymore?” Lance laughs nervously, wincing when Pidge and Hunk elbow him in the ribs.

Frowning, Shiro gets the feeling that they’re hiding something from him, but before he can use the Dad Voice (Lance’s words, not his) to coax it out of them, Nuey abruptly stands up and excuses herself to go to the training deck.

The rest of the team scatters pretty quickly after that, leaving a dumbfounded black paladin scratching his head at an empty room, breakfast abandoned on the table.

 

* * *

 

Nuey has just finished demolishing two gladiator robots when Shiro finds her. He makes his way over as she pauses for breath, the scythe in her hand morphing back into the red bayard.

“Great job. Looks like you’ve finally managed to beat level four,” he says.

“Oh I’m just getting warmed up.”

Shiro claps a hand on her shoulder, smiling proudly. “You’ve improved a lot since you first started. You’re on your way to becoming a great paladin, I just know it.”

The smug expression on Nuey’s face softens into something more earnest. “Thanks Shiro. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that. Red did choose you after all. Just do your best, that’s all I ask.”

A few minutes after Shiro leaves her to train, Lance walks in with two water packets, tossing one in the Gaie's direction. “Hey, I saw Shiro leaving earlier. Did he say anything to you?”

“Nothing important.” Nuey shakes her head with a frown. “What matters is that Keith’s back.”

Lance nods sadly. “It’s about time anyway. He’s getting faster though, the bastard. It’s been what, only six weeks since he last decided to show his mullet again?”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“No, but we can’t lose Shiro either.”

 

* * *

 

_Something’s different this time._

_He’s being swarmed by a mass of purple encased in gray, but he’s not going down without a fight, not when he’s almost at the end, almost free, until he reaches the final purple figure in white, just standing there._

_Its mouth is open, but the words coming out of it are muffled, as though he’s underwater. The steady glow of its yellow eyes seem to pierce into his very soul, its gaze unwavering, warm --_

_His fist punches right through its chest, but he can’t stop himself. It’s like watching a movie, seeing his body move on its own. He isn’t acting on instinct anymore, there’s something making him lose control, making him fight, KILL. There’s red on his hands, red everywhere, no more white or gray or purple, just red red RED --_

_Voices taunt him from all around, the snake-like hisses of the druids._

_D̵id ̧̡you̢͡͝ ̢̡s̸҉è́ę̴͟?͝ ͜͢҉D̢̢͘į̕d͏͘͟ y͡o̷ư ̀͘s̷͘e̵̛e̡͝?͜ ̀L͏oo͘k ͢àt͜ ̵w̴͜h̀҉a̷͡t̕͟ y͞ǫư’̴̡v̡̡e̸͟ ̢ḑ̸͢on͝e͜͝.̴͠ ̴͝T̸h̨͘ȩ ̕̕f̨̨͟e͢͝a̴r ̵͟í̶n͏̶̀ ́h͞i͞s͠ ̢e͠y͏é̴s͢ ̡w͝h̛è͝n y̡o̷̕ù ͏̴r̷͝i̡p̶p̵͏e̶̛d̨͘ ̸h͢is ̡h̀͘e̛a̷̧͟r̛t̛ ̧͡òut̀̕.̷̡ ҉͜H̸̡͠e҉ t͜͠r̢͜u̧͝͡ş̡̛t͡͞ed y̸̶o̕͝͞u͏̴͝,̛҉ ̵a̵̵n̷҉͝d̵́ ̡͢͡y͡ǫ͝ư̧ ̴̸K͜I̡L̛̕L҉E̢͞D ̧h̶̀͞i҉͘͡m͡҉.̢̕_

_He’s screaming now, his throat raw, his eyes burning with tears. The next thing he knows there’s glowing purple reaching for his neck, but it never makes contact. Purple turns into blue as someone calls out to him, and then he’s falling and falling --_

\-- and Shiro wakes up with a hoarse cry, a familiar name at the tip of his tongue.

_“K--!”_

His eyes fly open to see the boy hugging his cybernetic arm, unaffected by the bright blue energy radiating off of it. He’s practically clinging onto the prosthetic, holding it back from going anywhere near Shiro’s head.

Then Allura’s there next to him, slender brown fingers reaching for his temple --

Darkness.

 

* * *

 

_“I’ll do it.”_

_“Nuey, you can’t just --”_

_“The red lion may not have bonded to me, but I have to try. Someone has to take Keith’s place, and it’s the least I can do after treating him so poorly. Galra or not, he was an honorable warrior to the end.”_

_“Princess, I hate to say this, but she’s right. Shiro can’t wake up to an incomplete team. He’ll realize that something’s wrong right away, and we all know what he tried to do after finding out how Keith died. There’s no telling what might happen if those memories are triggered again.”_

_“We can’t take that chance, Allura. I’ve removed his prosthetic just in case; it’s about time Hunk and I replaced it anyway.”_

_“It’s not fair, he was brainwashed for crying out loud! He won’t stop blaming himself, but it’s not his fault. What we’re doing -- It doesn’t make us any better than the Galra!”_

_“I know, Lance. We don’t like it either, but we don’t have any other choice. Coran, how are things on your end?”_

_“The mind melding equipment will remain broken indefinitely and the serum’s almost done! It’s not perfect though; Shiro’s memories can only be suppressed for so long. We need a sign, something to let us know when it’s almost flushed out of his system.”_

_“We’ll worry about that later. For now, let’s just focus on building a new prosthetic for him.”_

 

* * *

 

There’s a generous spread of dishes on the dining table the next morning, along with an extra helping of food on Shiro’s plate.

“We heard you had a rough night,” Pidge explains sympathetically. “Thought a nice breakfast would make you feel better.”

Shiro smiles gratefully at his friends, touched by their thoughtful gesture. Digging heartily into the meal, his eyes light up at the bursts of flavor on his tongue. “Wow, this tastes amazing! You’ve really outdone yourself, Hunk!”

The yellow paladin ducks his head at the praise, unable to look him in the eye. Shiro finds his modesty endearing.

“Really, thank you everyone. But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on your training schedules today.”

“Oh, come on!” Lance complains amidst the chorus of groans around the table.

And Shiro laughs.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t dream that night, or anymore for that matter.

It’s a blessing, really. His nightmares come and go, but while he knows that he should be taking advantage of the lull to give his body the proper rest it needs, somehow it doesn’t quite work that way.

Most nights he falls into a restless sleep, and the next day his head always hurts a little, as though he’s forgotten something important. He wakes up with his flesh hand held out to the side, half-expecting to see someone next to him, but his room’s always empty and he’s alone.

Some mornings he feels like crying, the hollow sensation in his chest aching alongside the holes in his memories.

 

* * *

 

One month later, Shiro goes to breakfast with dark bags under his eyes.

“Hey guys, this may sound a little weird but… Have you seen a boy wandering around the castle recently?”

**Author's Note:**

> One day I shall write something nice where missing memories of pre-Kerberos Sheith are restored and brainwashed paladins stop themselves from killing their loved ones just in time.
> 
> But it is not this day. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and hit me up on tumblr @ fickleminder if you wanna chat :)


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